Blood of Innocents
by Glorfindel's Girl
Summary: ~Completed~ Time is fast running out for Maedhros' search for Elured and Elurin in the woods of Doriath...
1. Day One: Elured

Blood of Innocents

By

**Glorfindel's Girl**

Day One: Eluréd 

          Nimloth threw back the heavy tapestry covering the stone wall, and pushed her son behind it.  She let the tapestry drop back down and turned to leave.  There were voices growing nearer.  Angry voices, dangerous voices.  

"Amil," Eluréd cried, reaching out for his mother's hand.  "Do not leave me, Amil!"  He did not know exactly what was happening, but he did not want to be left alone.  Nimloth turned around at her child's touch.  She dropped to her knees before him.  Eluréd saw that his mother's eyes were filled with tears.  That frightened him more than the thought of being left alone.

"Eluréd," she whispered, placing her hands on her son's cheeks.  "You must stay here.  Promise me, Eluréd, that no matter what you hear you will stay here.  Promise me!"

He nodded, beginning to cry.  "I promise, Amil."

Nimloth leaned forward and kissed her child once on the forehead.  "Sshh," she whispered, placing a finger on his lips.  "You must be quiet.  I love you."

And then she was gone, pulling the tapestry back into its proper position.  Eluréd cried in silence as he heard the voices growing nearer.  Suddenly, they were right before him, on the other side of the tapestry.

"Where is it woman?" someone demanded.

"You have lost your right to it!" he heard his mother reply, with cold fury in her voice.  There was the sharp sound of someone being slapped.

"Foolish woman!  How dare you oppose us?  Stand aside or meet the same fate as your husband!"

"No!" Nimloth cried.

Eluréd bit his lip to keep from crying for his mother as he heard the ring of a sword being drawn from a scabbard.   He covered his ears, tears streaming down his face, but it was not enough to block out the sound of the sword being brought down, the sound of someone collapsing on the floor.  Then…silence.  Eluréd could feel his heart pounding against his chest, like a bird beating against its cage.  Were they gone?  Was he safe?  

Light flooded across his face as the tapestry was suddenly drawn back.  He tried to back away, but found only the cold stone of the wall pressed against his back.  A dark haired Elf reached forward, grabbed him by the wrist and pulled him roughly from his hiding place.  He closed his eyes, but not fast enough.  He had already seen his mother's lifeless body lying in a pool of blood.  

"I told you she had a child with her," the Elf said to the others gathered around.  Eluréd opened his eyes again and saw that he was surrounded by a group of grim Elves, all with cold, merciless eyes.  Then something heavy struck him in the back of the head, and he collapsed to the cavern floor, dimly aware of the angry voices above him.  Then his world dissolved into darkness, and he remembered no more.  


	2. Day One, Evening: Maedhros

Blood of Innocents 

**By **

**Glorfindel's Girl**

Day One, Evening: Maedhros 

**          Maedhros dipped his hand into the stream and swirled his fingers about, staining the water red.  It was winter, but he paid no heed to the icy cold of the water, intent only on rinsing the blood from his hand.**

          "And since when does it trouble Maedhros to have bloodstained hands?"

          Maedhros clenched his jaw slightly at the sound of his brother's soft, mocking voice.  He did not reply, but stood, shook the water from his hand, and turned to face him.  His brother stood a few feet away, leaning against a massive tree trunk, his dark hair fluttering in the soft breeze.

          "Innocent blood, Maglor," he said quietly, though with a steely edge to his tone.

          Maglor laughed softly, bitterly, then strode over to Maedhros, the dried leaves which littered the forest floor crunching beneath his feet.  Maglor reached out, and wiped his hand slowly down Maedhros' right cheek, leaving a trail of blood behind.  He smiled slightly, pleased with the look of disgust in his elder brother's deep grey eyes.

          "And since when has that mattered, Maedhros?" he asked, his own grey eyes glittering with contempt.  

Maedhros wiped the blood away with his sleeve.  "There was no need to kill the woman," he said.

          Maglor shrugged slightly.  "She made her choice when she refused to stand down.  She stood in the way of our goal.  Have you forgotten our oath?"  His words were a desperate, bitter mockery of those uttered by Maedhros many times before.  

          Maedhros shook his head, his coppery hair falling into his face.  "No, I have not."  He had not missed the cruel irony in his brother's words.  He stopped, straightened the long right sleeve of his robe, habitually checking to see that it covered the place where his hand should have been.  "What of the Silmaril?

          Maedhros saw a shadow pass over Maglor's eyes.  Maglor lowered his gaze.

          "It was not there," he replied.

          "Not there?"  Maedhros repeated.  He looked down at his left hand, blood still caught beneath his fingernails and around his cuticles.  "All the blood we spilled…..for nothing?"

          Maglor raised his gaze again, and boldly met his brother's icy glare.  "It is no different than the other times," he said, his face contorted with rage.  "You mean to say that after all we have done, it is now that you suddenly become wracked by conscience?  We swore to fulfil an oath, Maedhros.  Sometimes we must endure setbacks."  He then turned, and began to walk away.

          "Do not turn your back on me, Maglor!" Maedhros said with sudden fury.  "All the lives lost, all the blood shed, you, brother, call that nothing but a setback?"

          Maglor spun around, and a cold fury was in his eyes.  "Yes, _brother_, I do," he spat.  "As I have learned to do from you.  From _you._  And by lives lost and blood shed do you refer to our brothers or those that dared oppose us?  Do you forget that our brothers' blood stains the floor of the caves as well?  You hypocrite!  If the Silmaril had been here, would it have lessened the regret you feel?  Would it have erased the stain of blood on your hand?  Would it have made our crime less?  We swore an oath to destroy anyone who opposed us!  We must fulfil that oath!"  He stopped short, breathing heavily.

          Maedhros glared at his brother.  "That oath did not include the murder of a woman trying to protect her family.  Nor the murder of innocent _children out of vengeance!"_

          "And what would you call what you did at Alqualondë?  Can you even begin to grasp how many innocents perished that night?  How many husbands trying to protect their wives, how many women trying to protect their children.  Have you forgotten their pleas for mercy?  Have you forgotten the sight of their blood upon the sands?  Well if it comforts your tortured soul any, the two little boys were not killed," Maglor replied.

          Maedhros regarded his brother carefully.  "What do you mean?"

          Maglor smiled coldly.  "We did not kill them.  Celegorm's servants abandoned them deep in the forest to starve.  To die.  Alone."

          "And you dare to call me a hypocrite," Maedhros replied in a deadly whisper.  "You know they have no chance of surviving.  You have killed them."

          Maglor sneered.  "And do you know why?  Because of this oath.  Because of Atar.  Because of _you._"  With that, he turned and walked away, disappearing from view into the trees.

          Maedhros sank slowly to the ground, and rested his head on his hand.  Eyes closed, he wandered in dark thoughts for some time.  After a while, minutes or hours he knew not which, he rose, and a grim determination was in his face.  He knew he had to reduce the evil he and his brothers had done that day.  He was going to find the children.    


	3. Day Two: Elured and Elurin

Blood of Innocents 

**By**

**Glorfindel's Girl**

Day Two: Eluréd and Elurín 

          Eluréd awoke, expecting to find himself in bed in the familiar surroundings of his chambers.  Instead, he was faced with a patchwork of grey winter sky seemingly held aloft by the skeletal treetops.  Slowly, he sat up, the dead brown leaves beneath him crunching at his slight movements.  He ached all over.  The memory of the day before came rushing back to him in a tumult.  Hearing his mother scream, being found behind the tapestry.  But after that…nothing. 

          "Where am I," he murmured, taking in the unfamiliar surroundings.    He was cold, horribly cold.  He wrapped his light cloak tightly around his small body, but it provided little protection against the bitter northern winds.    There was a sudden moan behind him.  He turned around quickly, a binding pain shooting through his head.

          "Elurín!"  

          His younger brother lay curled upon the ground, bits of leaves caught in his dark hair.  An ugly bruise covered one cheek, and his lower lip was cut.  The only places on his face that did not have a translucent covering of dirt were where his tears had traced their way down his cheeks.  For one horrifying moment, Eluréd believed his brother dead.  Then he saw the slight rise and fall of his chest.

          "Elurín wake up!" he cried, throwing himself upon his younger brother. "Please!"

          The younger one gasped, shoved his brother off him with surprising strength, and pushed himself away from Eluréd's grasp.  He looked up at his brother with wide, frightened eyes.  

          "Eluréd!" he cried in recognition.  He crawled forward and collapsed into his brother's lap, weeping.  "It hurts," he managed between sobs.

          "I know, I know," he replied, caressing Elurín's hair.  "It is going to be all right."

          "I…I tried to run away…Elwing…she tried…she tried to take me with her.  But they…they caught me…and…Eluréd, I tried to fight…but they…they…" he broke off into choking sobs.  "I want Amil and Atar," he murmured into his elder brother's embrace.  "Where are they?"

          Eluréd felt his own tears stinging his eyes at the mention of their parents.  But Elurín did not know…he could not let him know.  Eluréd surveyed the situation with grave eyes.  It was winter, and they were ill-dressed for the coming weather.  He forced his tears back, knowing that there was little chance they would live.  But he had to hope.  Had to keep hope.

          "What did they mean, Eluréd?"

          "What?" he asked, looking down at his younger brother.  

          "When I asked them where Amil and Atar were, they told me not to worry, that we would be with them soon.  What did they mean, Eluréd?  Are Amil and Atar out here too?"

          "I do not know, Elurín," he replied softly.  "But we should go search for them.  If you are able to stand."

          Elurín nodded as he raised his head, wiping tears from his cheeks with the sleeve of his tunic.  Eluréd rose, then held his hand out to his younger brother.  Elurín accepted his brother's hand and pulled himself to his feet.  He leaned heavily against his brother's shoulder as Eluréd wrapped a gentle arm about his shoulders.

          "Come on.  If we keep moving, we will stay warm," Eluréd said, his cheerful tone completely masking the utter anguish he felt inside.  He guided his brother carefully as they walked away from the clearing.  He could see that Elurín was hurt worse than he showed.  He would not be able to travel far without rest.  But Eluréd could not bear the thought of remaining where they were.  They had to move on, he had to keep his mind occupied.  

          Something cold struck his arm.  He looked up and saw a few snow flurries beginning to fall from the grey sky.  

          "Eluréd?"

          Eluréd looked back down at his younger brother.  "Yes?"

          "I wish we were with Amil and Atar," he whispered, tears tracing down his cheeks once more.

          "Do not worry," Eluréd replied, forcing himself to smile.  "We will be soon."


	4. Day Two, Evening: Maedhros

**Blood of Innocents**

**By Glorfindel's Girl**

**Day Two, Evening: Maedhros**

          Maedhros surveyed the markings upon the ground with a grim expression.  Celegorm's servants had done their job well – too well.  They had wanted to leave no chance of rescue for the young princes by any of the survivors.  The tracks of the horses crossed atop each other, tangling together in such a jumble that even not even Fëanor's eldest son could determine the correct direction.    

          Suppressing a cry of rage, Maedhros kicked a near-by beech tree and sat down heavily beside the tracks.  He had wasted precious time already by following a false trail all day.  Silently, he cursed himself for not realizing it earlier.  The tracks had been to plain, the trail too obvious.  He should have known.  Now the sunlight was fading fast, and he was no closer to locating the children than he had been when he first began.  And the wind was growing colder.  The dark grey clouds above carried threats of snow.  

A sudden gust of wind raised goose bumps on Maedhros' arms, and he shivered, drawing his heavy woolen cloak tighter.  The chill was little more than a mild annoyance, but he knew that it would grow worse ere this night was ended.  He tried not to think about the children, huddled together to keep warm, shivering in the cold night.  He had to find them.  Had to undo some of the evil his hands had brought.  Maedhros leaned back against the tree, and rested his head in his hand, lost in thought.

_"You want to know why, Maedhros?"  _His brother's words raced through his mind once more.  _"Because of this oath.  Because of Atar.  Because of **you**_."  Maglor had been right, Maedhros realized.  It _was_ his fault.  All the death and destruction, all of the lives so cruelly cut short, it was all because of him.  The gravity of his actions seemed suddenly to press down upon him, threatening to overwhelm him.  How many murders?  How much blood had he spilled?  He knew, _knew_, that if he were to look down at his hands at that moment, that they would be covered in the blood of countless innocents.  And they would always be.  Such stains, once set, can never come clean.

It was no wonder Maglor had reached his breaking point, Maedhros realized.  If their actions were weighing so heavily upon his own heart, how much heavier were they upon Maglor's?  Maglor, the gentle one, Maglor the singer.  Maglor who would sooner have been a scholar than a warrior.  How long had he kept his emotions so fragilely bound, that they would finally burst forth with such violent force as to make him momentarily unrecognizable to his own brother.  All this and more raced through Maedhros' mind as he sat upon the damp ground, weeping in silence, oblivious to the deepening shadows and the white flurries falling steadily around him.  .  

When he finally looked up, tears still drying upon his cheeks, it was fully dark, and snow had begun to settle in a fine white powder on the forest floor.  How long had he been sitting there?  He could not continue his search this night; in the darkness he feared he would miss some sign that might guide him to the children.

Finally, he decided to build a fire, in hopes that if the children were wandering about in the woods, the light might draw then near.  As he fed dried bits of wood to the flames, he began to sing softly.  It was no more than snatches of a half-remembered childhood melody, but it seemed to comfort his soul somehow.  If only he could have sang like Maglor, then perhaps the boys would hearken to his voice, and come to him.  But no, he was only copper-haired Maedhros, and he was no singer.  After some time, he cast himself upon the ground and fell into an uneasy sleep.  

He awoke once, and found that the fire had burnt itself down to embers.  Sitting up slowly, he surveyed the woods around him.  Seeing nothing, he lay back down, resting his hand upon his sword hilt.  Though he lay still, eyes closed, he did not sleep.  Somewhere out in the darkness of the forest, he knew he was being watched.  


	5. Day Three: Elured and Elurin

**Blood of Innocents**

**By Glorfindel's Girl**

**Day Three: Eluréd and Elurín**

          Cold.  It was so cold.  But Eluréd could not allow himself to think of his own discomfort, not with his brother walking beside him shivering, his lips tinged with blue.  He had wanted to build a fire, but having neither flint nor iron, there was naught he could do.  Instead, they had been forced to spend the night curled against each other, Eluréd trying as best he could to cover Elurín's body with his own. 

          Eluréd looked up, silently noting the fact that the sky had cleared while they slept.  The snow had settled into a fine powder, which clung to their feet and legs as they walked.  There was simply no escaping it, no way to be free of it.  The stinging pain and numbness had become an almost comforting companion for Dior's eldest son, drowning out all else, even the sharp pangs of hunger.  Beside him, Elurín stumbled over some hidden stone, nearly falling.  Eluréd caught his brother by the arm before he could fall, and helped him re-gain his balance.

          "Eluréd, can we rest for a little while?  I'm so hungry," Elurín murmured, resting his weight against his brother's shoulder as they walked.  

          "Just a little further, then we can stop and eat something," Eluréd replied, putting his arm around his brother's shoulders.  He was growing weaker, Eluréd realized, noting the heaviness of his younger brother's steps. 

Eluréd slowed for a minute, reaching up and unfastening his cloak.  The air was bitterly cold against his arms, but he tried to ignore it.  He draped it about Elurín's shoulders, fastening it tightly.  It was far too large for him, but it did not matter.  At least it would keep him a little warmer.  Elurín looked up at his brother with wide eyes.

"Are you not cold?" he asked, wrapping his brother's cloak tightly around his small body.  Eluréd just smiled and shook his head.

"No, I'm fine," he said.  "Come on.  We have to keep moving."

Slowly, they plodded along, Eluréd remaining ever cheerful, ever encouraging his younger brother.  The sun was well into the western sky when he paused suddenly.

"Elurín!  Do you hear that?" he whispered.  Somewhere nearby, water was flowing.  He snatched his brother's hand in his own, and ran toward the sound, nearly dragging Elurín behind him.  Stumbling, gasping for breath, the burst into a clearing.  A deep, swiftly moving brook lined by large, flat rocks flowed through it.  And there, growing beside the brook…

"Oh, thank you, thank you," Eluréd whispered, collapsing upon his knees as Elurín ran to the frost-kissed wild berry bushes which blossomed next to the brook.  Snow soaked through his pant legs, but he cared little.  Food.  They had food.  Slowly he stood, and followed Elurín's steps to the bushes.

Though there was more than enough for them both, Eluréd held back, waiting for his younger brother to satisfy his hunger first, before he, himself fell upon the wild berry bushes.  The berries were cold, but still sweet and juicy.  By the time they finished, both boys' mouths and hands were stained purple-red.  

While Elurín was still picking berries from the bushes, Eluréd eyed the brook, amazed that it was not frozen over.  The water would be unbearably cold; they could not risk crossing it.  Something about the huge rocks around the brook caught his eye, something not quite right.  He laughed aloud, realizing what it was.  There was no snow on the rocks.  He ran to one of the huge flat rocks and lay his hands upon it.  It was warm.  The sun had warmed the rocks and melted the snow.

"Elurín!" he cried, motioning to his brother, "Come!"  He climbed up atop the rock and lay down, arms outstretched, basking in the warmth upon his back, and the sunlight upon his face.  He shivered slightly as Elurín climbed up beside him, and lay down.  He had not realized just how cold he was.

"We will stay here as long as we may," Eluréd said, turning his head so he could see his brother.  Elurín's eyes were closed, but he nodded, sunlight playing across the lines of his face.  "We have food, water…and a warm place."

They laid there, utterly exhausted, though full and as content as they could be.  The sun set, and they curled up together, spreading the two cloaks over their bodies like blankets.  The babbling brook and wind in the trees quickly lulled Elurín into a deep slumber.  Eluréd remained awake a while longer, staring up at the starry sky trough the treetops, and wondering how long they could delay the inevitable.  The last sound he heard before drifting into sleep was that of a nightingale, crying its song out into the darkness.  And for some reason, it comforted him.  He fell asleep feeling safe, loved, as content as a babe in its mother's arms.  The night wore on, and the nightingale continued its solemn lullaby.  


	6. Day Three: Maedhros

**Blood of Innocents**

**By Glorfindel's Girl**

**Day Three: Maedhros**

          He found their trail.  It was chance more than anything that he did so.  Somehow, he had gotten turned around in the woods, an easy thing to do.  While trying to find his way back to the false trail, Maedhros had tripped over a snow-covered root and fallen.  It was then, as he was getting up, that he saw the shred of fabric caught on a dead branch.  

It seemed a small, insignificant thing, that he would have undoubtedly overlooked had he not fallen.  But it was nothing short of miraculous.  He leaned forward, and plucked the scrap from its nest of thorns.  It was soft, moss-green, shot through with strands of silver.  A piece of one of the boys' cloaks.  He stood, hope renewed in his heart.  The trail.  He had found it.  

As he followed their path, he began to notice things that troubled him.  Blood.  Every so often, he would pass places where the pure white of the snow was cruelly interrupted by smatterings of blood.  Elbereth Gilthoniel.  What had his brother's servants done to those children?

Grimly, he wondered how great his chances of finding them alive were.  He was a full grown, strong adult, and they were only children, injured and lost.  But they'd had a full two days head start, and he knew better than to underestimate how far they could have traveled.  

"I have to find them," he muttered, picking up his pace.  It became his mantra, whispered over and over again, until he hardly realized he was doing it.  He called to them every now and again.  "Eluréd!  Elurín!  Sons of Dior, can you hear my voice?"  But always, there were answers naught.

It was when the sun set that Maedhros seriously began to doubt whether he was going to find them, and it was with heavy heart that he set up camp.  He wanted to continue his search, but as the night before, did not dare risking it in the dark.  So he lit a fire, and settled back to rest.

He fell into waking dreams as he stared into the dancing flames. He saw his father, laughing as he chased Maglor and himself.  Innocence.  They had once had innocence.  But no longer.  He saw his mother, eyes red from weeping, reaching out to him.  "Matimo," she whispered to him, "What have you done?"  The flames dancing over the dry fire wood became a roaring blaze, consuming white ships in a fair harbor.  Darkness swept over him.  "Murderer," someone hissed in his ear.  "You are a murderer, Maedhros, son of Fëanor."

"No!" Maedhros cried out, sitting up, suddenly very much awake.  And like that the visions were gone.  There was only he and the crackling fire.  

Or was there?

He felt it again, the prickling sensation on the back of his neck.  He was being watched once more.  He jumped to his feet, and turned in a slow circle, eyes searching the flickering shadows.  

"What do you want?!" he yelled into the darkness.  "What do you want of me?!"

There was no reply, but whatever was watching him had not left.  He could still feel it, somewhere out there beyond the grasp of the firelight.  Strangely, he did not sense any threat, only a vast patience.  He settled down once more, sitting with his back against a massive tree.  He vowed that he would not sleep, not while being watched.  But eventually, he did drift off, and when he did awaken, the morning was had grown old, and the sun high in the sky.


	7. Day Four: Elured and Elurin

**Blood of Innocents**

**By Glorfindel's Girl**

**Day Four: Eluréd and Elurín**

         The wind was sharp against Eluréd's face, but beneath the cloaks, his body was warm.  He closed his eyes tightly, fighting off the morning light as he reached out for his younger brother.  His hands touched only cool stone.  Eluréd opened an eye, and glanced around.  His brother was gone.

         Then he heard the splash, and a short yell.  With a surge of panic, Eluréd threw the cloaks off, and leapt off the rock.  "No!!" he screamed, turning and frantically searching the surface of the swiftly moving brook.  "Elurín?!  Elurín where are you?!!"

         "Eluréd, help!"

         There!  He saw his brother, clinging desperately to a fallen log, the swift current threatening to sweep him away.

         "Hold on!" he cried, running downstream towards him.  There was no way he could walk out on the log to get to his brother.  It was too old, too weak.  It would break through with his weight.  Without a second though, Eluréd dove into the brook.

         The cold water hit him like a slap in the face.  It took his breath away, and for a moment he could think of nothing else.  Elurín.  He had to get to Elurín.  Fighting the current, he swam towards his brother.  "Take my hand!" he cried, reaching out to him.  Elurín released his grasp on the log, and grabbed for his brother's hand.  Their fingers met, and Eluréd grabbed his younger sibling's hand tightly.  Somehow, he managed to pull him back to shore, and onto the bank.  

         Elurín clung to him, shivering violently, tears running down his cheeks.  "Why, Elurín, why?" was all Eluréd could manage.  The younger boy began to sob.  Eluréd wrapped his brother in his arms, their wet clothes sticking to their skin.

         "How could you fall in?" he asked, stroking Elurín's soaking hair, shuddering as the cold winter air danced mercilessly across their wet skin.

         "I…I needed a…a drink," Elurín managed, still shivering, "But I lost my…my balance and…and fell in."

         "Come on," Eluréd said, standing and pulling his brother up after him.  "You've got to get out of these clothes.  Got to get warm."  Elurín was a dead weight against his arms as he half-dragged, half-carried him back towards their encampment.

         "You've got to help me, Elurín.  I cannot carry you," Eluréd said, an edge of hysteria creeping into his voice.  But the struggle in the river seemed to have used up the last of his brother's reserves, and he was unable even to support his own weight.  Somehow, Eluréd managed to bring Elurín back to their encampment.  Gently he stripped his brother of his soaking clothes and wrapped him in their cloaks.  

         "Lie here in the sun, Elurín," Eluréd said, helping his brother to lie down on the sunlit rock where they had slept the night before.  

         "So cold," the younger one murmured.

         "I know, I know," Eluréd replied, shuddering as a sudden gust of icy wind whipped around his body, cutting through his soaking clothes.  He could not help but wonder when he would have the chance to dry his own clothing.  But no.  Elurín's hurts were far worse than his own.  He had to get him warm.  Worry about the rest later.  He laid Elurín's clothes out to dry in the sun.

Elurín closed his eyes, burrowing deeper beneath the cloaks.  Eluréd sat beside him, keeping watch, stroking his brother's hair gently, and praying that he would be all right.  Slowly, the younger one's breathing steadied, became more measured, less sporadic, and Eluréd knew that though his brother still shivered with cold, he slept.  The sun rose higher, the air grew colder, and Eluréd kept his silent vigil.


	8. Day Four: Maedhros

**Blood of Innocents**

**By Glorfindel's Girl**

**Day Four: Maedhros**

          How had he lost the trail again?  Maedhros cursed himself as he followed the small tributary upstream, searching for any sign that the boys had been there.  He'd had their trail, and he'd lost it.  The children's soft footprints had faded beneath new-fallen snow, and he could find no hint as to where it may have led.  It was almost as though someone did not want him to find the children.  But no.  He couldn't think of that.  Just keep walking.  That was all he could do.

          Maedhros paused for a moment, and knelt down beside the stream, dipping his hand into the icy water, and bringing it to his lips.  The liquid chilled him, but still it satisfied his thirst.  He frowned, as he bent for another drink.  If the boys had been able to find water, they would have been likely to stay near by it.  He would continue to follow the stream, and hope.

          He brought his hand to his lips again, and froze, deep grey eyes focused on his rippling reflection on the stream's surface.  

There was someone standing behind him.

He leapt to his feet, and wheeled around, drawing his sword in one smooth motion.  There was no one there.  He heard a sudden snatch of laughter carried on the breeze.  Out of the corner of his eye, he caught swift movement; a swirl of a grey cloak, long dark hair flowing in the chill air.  Heart pounding in his chest, he turned to look to his left.

Nothing.

Or nothing that he could see.  He could feel it.  Whatever it was, out there, watching him, waiting.  Sword still drawn, he walked slowly towards the dense thicket of trees where he had last seen movement.  

There, upon the snowy ground, were three footprints.  

Trembling, he dropped to his knees to examine the prints closer.  They had cut completely through the snow to the ground below.  Three perfect imprints of a woman's bare feet, revealing ground that was not dry and brown from winter, but earth that covered with fine green grass and miniscule flower buds.  Even as he watched, the grass withered, turned brown, died, the flowers bloomed, faded, wilted.  He reached out to touch one of the prints.

A sudden noise overhead caused him to look up.  A nightingale was perched on an overhanging branch.  They regarded each other in silence for a moment, the bird with a strange understanding in its soft brown eyes.  Then, with a flurry of wings and feathers, it took flight and was gone.  Maedhros looked down at the footprints again, only to find that they too were gone.  

He sensed motion behind him, felt the presence at his back once more.  But his time, he made no motion to look.  At last, he understood.  He bowed his head low to the ground.

          "Let me pass," he whispered, tears coursing down his cheeks.  "Oh Lady, I beg thee.  Let me pass."

          The only reply was the cold winter wind whipping through bare treetops.  Maedhros rose from his low bow, but did not stand, though the snow was chill beneath his knees.  

"Their place is not with you, Son of Fëanor."  The reply caught him off-guard.  He had not expected her to answer, not really.  And oh!  Her voice was like wind through the grass, like moonlight on water, like laughter, like birdsong, like flowers blooming in springtime, and everything that is alive and good in the world.  

"Why?" Maedhros asked.  "Will you let them die, then?  Alone?"

"They are not alone," she replied gently.

And then she was gone.  Maedhros rose slowly, turned round.  There was no one there.  She had left him utterly alone.  And with no one to bear witness to his shame, he collapsed upon the forest floor and wept.


	9. Day Four, Late Evening: Elured and Eluri...

**Blood of Innocents**

**By **

**Glorfindel's Girl**

_"A dying child gives life up willingly_

_If he is loved and held while dying._

_Triumphant innocence can smile upon_

_Such terrors as make warriors scream_." 

– Calvin Miller

**Day Four, Late Evening: Eluréd and Elurín**

          Eluréd dipped the shirt into the icy brook, wrung the excess water from it, then ran back to his brother's side.  Hot.  He was so hot, burning with fever and yet Elurín still shivered as though chilled to his very bones.  He winced as Eluréd used the damp cloth to wipe his brow and chest.

          "So cold, Eluréd," he whispered, curling up into a fetal position.  Eluréd fought back tears as he lay the shirt against the back of his brother's neck.

          "Shhh.  You're very sick," he replied, covering Elurín's body lightly with his cloak.  It was snowing again, the flakes clinging to their hair and brows.  Eluréd reached down and brushed ice crystals from his brother's hair, tucking his dark locks behind his ears.  The wind picked up, whipping mercilessly around Eluréd's body, tiny shards of ice stinging as they hit his arms.   He was suddenly aware – truly aware – of the cold for the first time since…since…how long _had _he and Elurín been wandering in the forest?  

Shivering, he tried to count the days they had been lost.  How many nights had they spent out in the cold?  He could not remember.  Fighting to keep conscious through the cold, he worked backward.  Had it only been the day before that they found the brook and berry bushes?  It seemed like years.  And the day before that…that must have been the day they first awoke in the forest.  Three days.  They had only been in the woods for three days.  Four days since they were warm and safe in the palace.  That seemed a whole other lifetime.  A half-remembered dream clinging to the back of his mind upon waking.

The sound of his brother coughing brought Eluréd sharply back to reality.  The fit wracked his entire body, and he couldn't seem to draw a full breath.  Eluréd laid down beside his brother, wrapping his arms around him, protecting his body with his own, willing the cough to stop.  

"Just try to breathe, Elurín," he whispered.  "One breath at a time.  Deep breaths."  Eluréd would have cried then, if he'd had strength enough to do it.  But he was spent, physically and emotionally.  If only he had warned his brother, he wouldn't have fallen in the brook.  If only he could have gotten to him sooner, perhaps he wouldn't have gotten so chilled.  If only he'd caught the fever sooner, then perhaps it wouldn't have gotten so out of hand.  If only, if only, if only.  Now there was nothing he could do but hold him and pray.

          Eventually, Elurín's breathing did even out, and Eluréd continued to hold him, rocking him and murmuring softly to him.  He did not mean to fall asleep, but he was so cold, and it was so hard to cling to wakefulness.  So much easier to close his eyes…just for a minute…he would only rest his eyes for a minute…he felt himself slipping into sleep, and he did not care.

          Beyond his closed eyes, Eluréd could sense light.  Slowly, like a swimmer making his way to the surface, he pulled himself to consciousness and opened his eyes.  The moon overhead was full and bright, glittering upon the fresh snow like a field of diamonds.  He looked down at Elurín, still held within the circle of his arms, his chest rising and falling ever so slightly with each shallow breath.  

Snow had settled into his hair and onto his lashes.  Eluréd moved his hand to brush the flakes from his brother's face, pausing as he rested his hand upon his cheek.  He was warm, no longer burning with fever, and Eluréd could not help but smile.  Elurín was going to be all right.

Eluréd closed his eyes again, snuggling down against his brother.  But it was too bright, the moon reflecting too greatly upon the snow.  He could not sleep.  Sighing softly, he opened his eyes again.

          The moonlight was so bright that it cast dark shadows of the trees against the white ground.  Eluréd watched intently as the shadows shifted over the forest floor.

          But that wasn't right.  There air was still, the treetops frozen in the darkness.  There were no branches – let alone tree trunks – swaying in the wind.  So what then was causing the shadows to move and fade?  Slowly, so as not to wake Elurín, Eluréd sat up, eyes searching the darkness of the forest beyond the clearing.

          A strange silvery light was playing across the tree trunks deep in the forest.  It reminded him of the way torchlight would play across the stone passages in the recesses of the palace.  Except that this light was constant, not flickering like firelight.  Yet it moved through the dark forest just as it would if someone was bearing it.  He realized then that the light was coming nearer, and yet, somehow, he was not afraid.

          He lay still, watching the light grow brighter, closer, and wondered if perhaps he was dreaming.  The silvery glow was dazzlingly bright as it came round the trees into the clearing, and Eluréd had to cover his eyes.  When he moved his hands, he nearly cried out in surprise. 

          A woman stood near the copse of trees, soft silvery light playing across the grey-green fabric of her gown.  Midnight dark hair spilled over her shoulders, reminding Eluréd sharply of his raven haired grandmother, whose bright eyes and melodious laugh hovered just on the edge of memory.  For the woman standing before him was like and yet unlike her.  The same dark hair framed the woman's face, but her eyes…her eyes were the green of spring meadows framed by brilliant blue skies.  

          The child and the woman regarded each other in patient silence for a long while.  Eluréd wondered if perhaps he had wandered into some waking dream, for the woman did not move, did not speak, did nothing that truly acknowledged his presence.  Yet…yet he knew that she saw him, knew that she was simply waiting for him to speak first.  It was only the feel of Elurín stirring beside him that brought Eluréd back to his senses.

          "Ara-amil (1)?  Grandmother?" he heard his brother ask, his voice hushed and filled with awe.  The woman smiled, and it was like sunlight breaking over green fields.  Again, he was reminded sharply of his father's mother, and for a split second, Eluréd could almost believe his brother's deduction.

          "Shhh," Eluréd murmured, wrapping his arms tighter around Elurín.  "It is not her.  It cannot be.  Who are you?" he asked the woman.  She only smiled once more, and made her way across the clearing, towards the place where they lay curled upon the rock.  Eluréd watched in wonder as she walked, catching glimpses of her bare feet beneath the hem of her gown.  Each place she stepped, the snow melted, and tendrils of grass snaked up around her bare feet.  As soon as she lifted her feet, though, the grass withered and died, leaving only a bare spots in the crystalline whiteness of the snow.

          She came to them, and knelt beside the place where they lay.  Reaching out a slender hand, she caressed the side of Elurín's face, but her eyes were focused solely on Eluréd.

          "But you already know who I am, Eluréd, son of Dior.  Son of Luthien.  Son of Thingol."  Her voice was like the first day of spring, warm and gentle.  She leaned down and kissed Elurín's forehead before looking back up at Dior's eldest son.  "As their blood flows in your veins, so too does mine," she said softly.  Eluréd shook his head, not wanting to believe.

          "Do _you_ know where Amil is?  Did she send you to find us?" Elurín asked softly, staring at her through half-lidded eyes.  Eluréd willed his brother to be silent, clutching him tighter to his body.  The woman laughed softly, a rich, musical sound.

          "Your mother awaits you, smallest one," she replied.  "She wanted to come for you, but could not.  And so I did.  I've come to take you to her."

          Elurín stared up at her in silence for a long moment.  Then suddenly, before Eluréd could stop him, his brother rose and very nearly fell against the woman, throwing his arms about her neck, burying his face in her shoulder.  He drew back after a few seconds, laughing, a youthful, joyous sound.  

          "Eluréd, did you hear?!" he exclaimed, as the woman stood, drawing him up with her, holding him effortlessly in her arms.  Eluréd nodded solemnly.

          "I heard."

          The woman shifted Elurín's weight to one arm, and held out her hand to Eluréd.  Her eyes remained gentle and kind.  "Come, Eluréd," she said softly.  

Eluréd shook his head furiously as he stood and stepped away from her.  "No," he replied, voice trembling.  It wasn't fair!  Not now, not after they had tried so hard, after he had fought so hard for them.  No, no!  He had fought too hard to simply give up like this.  He had tried…oh gods how he had tried.  And he had failed.

"Yes, you have tried, Eluréd, son of Dior," the woman said softly, as though reading his thoughts.  "You have fought with the courage of many men.  You have shown bravery and compassion far beyond your years.  Know this: you have not failed.  You are not accepting defeat.  This is merely the next part of the journey."

Eluréd stood his ground, staring at his brother and the woman, tears tracing silently down his cheeks.  "I do not understand," he said finally.

"You will," she replied.  To this, Eluréd had no reply.

          "Take my hand, Eluréd," she said, extending her fingers towards him.  He hesitated for a moment, eyes searching her face for some sign, some certainty.  Slowly, he stepped towards her, reached out, and lay his hand in hers and his brother's.

          Time stood still. 

Overhead, Eluréd watched the stars wheeling across the sky in a glittering blur, the moon waxed and waned a thousand times over.  Around them the snow melted, grass and leaves blossomed, faded, the ground covered in snow once more.  The trees grew taller, broader, and he could feel the very essence of time coursing through his body, flowing through his veins.  It was part of him, and in that moment he understood that he was only a very small part of something greater, something vast and intangible, surrounding him and yet ever distant.

          He laughed aloud, and the sound resonated throughout space, echoing in the very corners of the universe.  This, _this_ was what it meant to be truly alive.  There was nothing holding him back, nothing to weigh him down, only this…this _energy_ that surrounded him, consumed him, flowed from him.  He was floating, rising above it all, above the dark forest, above the sea, above the stars.  He smiled then, knowing that somewhere very near, his mother waited for him with open arms.  Together, he and his brother sought their way.  And together, they found it.

1 Ara-Amil – hopefully, translates loosely to 'grandmother'.  


	10. Three Years Later: Maedhros

**Blood of Innocents**

**By**

**Glorfindel's Girl**

**Three Years Later: Maedhros**

He found the clearing, just as he had the year before.  Little had changed in that time; the brook still flowed cheerfully along its course, and the berry bushes still bloomed upon the rocks beside its banks.  It was early in winter, and no snow had fallen yet, though a light covering of frost glittered upon the fat red berries.  Sighing, he dropped to his knees beside the brook, dipping his hand into the chill waters, rinsing the dirt and dust away from his skin before lifting his hand to his lips to drink.  

          When he was done, he stood, shaking droplets of water from his hand, and surveyed the clearing slowly.  Frowning slightly, he climbed atop one of the large rocks by the water's edge and sat down, looking over the clearing with deeply troubled eyes.  

After a moment, he closed his eyes, lost in though.  In his memories it was deep winter again.  Snow covered the ground in a glittering powder, ice sparkling upon the branches overhead, a world made of crystal and diamond.  He stood at the edge of the clearing, a strange mixture of disbelief and desperation flooding his heart.  

He stared at two sets of footprints – the boys' footprints – that formed a short trail down from the edge of the rock to the center of the clearing and then stopped.  It was as though the children had simply vanished.  He had circled the clearing twice before falling to his knees beside the last footprints and weeping in utter defeat.  He had tried…oh gods how he had tried.  And he had failed.

Maedhros opened his eyes, and it was early winter. There was no snow, no footprints, yet they burned as clearly in his mind, as if they were before his eyes once more.  He shook his head slightly, still lost in thought.

He should have given up the search then, but he had still clung to a thread of hope, a strange desperation.  But three years had passed, and he had found no sign of the children.  In his mind, he knew they were gone, but his heart refused to accept the fact.

There was a rustling in the branches above his head, and Maedhros looked up to find a nightingale perched amongst a bunch of leaves, still clinging desperately to their branches, despite the frost.  A gust of wind swept through the clearing, rustling the remaining leaves, loosening a few from their hold, but the breeze was warm, and carried promises of flowers and springtime.  

Maedhros knew then that She was there, standing behind him.  He could feel her presence once more, for the first time in three years.  Maedhros closed his eyes, tears tracing down his dusty cheeks.

"I so wanted to find them," he said, staring down at the sparkling water in the brook.

"I know you did, Matimo."  The voice was musical, beautiful and yet sorrowful beyond all description.  It told of an almost forgotten light captured in stone, of bloodstained waves, of a heart that could never be fully healed.  Maedhros looked back over his shoulder, startled.  He had not expected the reply, not really. 

"Maglor," he said, his voice betraying his surprise.  His brother smiled at him, from where he stood resting against a tree, his dark hair fluttering in the wind.  Maglor strode across the clearing, and traced his hand down his brother's cheek, as though to affirm that it was truly he, and not some spectral shade.  Maglor smiled, and embraced his elder brother.

"I've missed you, Matimo," he said, releasing his brother from his grasp.  Maedhros found he could only smile softly and nod.  It was all right, though.  Maglor understood.  He looked around the clearing, taking in his surroundings.

"What is this place, Matimo?" Maglor asked.  "The earth, the trees, the waters…they resound with some secret energy."

Maedhros shrugged, staring at his younger brother with solemn eyes.  "This is hallowed ground, Maglor.  Just at the hills and valleys of Valinor are hallowed.  And just as we are banished there, so too is our presence here unworthy."

Maglor nodded, but did not reply.  He did not need to.  He understood his brother's words all the same.  "Does this mean that you are ready, then?" he asked finally, not looking his brother in the eyes.  Maedhros felt a tug at his heart, but he sighed heavily, and nodded.  

"Yes."

They jumped down from the rock without a second word between them.  Together they crossed the clearing and made their way into the surrounding forest.  They had not gone twenty paces, when a gust of wind swept at them from behind, carrying a rain of dry brown leaves.  Maedhros froze.  For a half-second, he could have sworn he heard the sound of children's laughter carried on that breeze.  The sound renewed the ache in his heart, and despite himself, he turned once more to look back at the clearing.

At the edge of the clearing, a woman stood, clad in moss green, her raven hair framing an extraordinarily beautiful face.  Her eyes were green…blue…the color of meadows overshadowed by clear cerulean skies.  She smiled ever so slightly at him, and he stopped, staring in awe.  He had not expected to see Her.  Not really.  Reverently, Maedhros laid his hand over his heart, and bowed, conceding the victory to her, the Guardian of these Woods, who had so many years ago woven her girdle of enchantment about the forest, laying her protection upon not only the woods, but all those who dwelled within.  She nodded, turned, and was gone.

Maedhros turned away, picking up his pace in order to catch up with his brother.  The ache in his heart remained, but it was lighter, somehow, sorrow without regret or bitterness.  Maglor, realizing his brother had fallen  behind looked back at him and smiled.

"Are you coming?" he asked.

Maedhros nodded.  "Yes.  Let's go," he said, his voice firm, resolved.  For he knew in his heart that his search had finally come to an end.  

As they walked, Maglor sang softly, and Maedhros was only able to catch snatches of the words.

          _"An arrow of freedom is piercing my heart_

_          Breaking chains of emotion_

_          Give a moment to pray, for lost innocence to find it's way_

_Fields of sensation, a cry in the dark_

_Hope is on the horizon, with a reason to stay_

_And living for a brand new day."_ (1)

          The two sons of Fëanor wove their way through the dense woods as night fell around them.  Two small, grey-clad figures amidst the towering trees above, mere children in comparison.  Together they sought their way out of the forest.  And together, they found it.

~Finis~

1 – These lyrics were taken from the song _The War is Over_, by Sarah Brightman, which I was listening to as I wrote the last two chapters of this story.  It is a beautifully haunting song, which tells not about external wars and battles, but the war one wages with oneself.  I _highly_ recommend listening to this song, or at least locating a full copy of the lyrics.  


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